


It’s Like Tag, Only With Drugs.

by Titans_R_Us



Series: The Moral of Their Story Is? [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark fluff, Established Relationship, Luckily Tim is just as much as a dick back, M/M, Ra's is still a dick, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, twisted but consensual relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titans_R_Us/pseuds/Titans_R_Us
Summary: Most people tease the one they love by pulling their pigtails. Doing harmless pranks, inside jokes, etc... Ra’s Al Ghul and Tim Drake do something very different. Here's three times chemical warfare was used with varying results. They regret nothing.





	It’s Like Tag, Only With Drugs.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely emotionally lighter than "Fight....NO WAIT DON'T!" It's more about Ra's following up on the drugging comment and Tim responding in turn, because what goes around comes around right?

It’s like tag, only with drugs.

Tim hisses at the needle sliding into his skin and fights. It doesn’t do much against the three ninjas holding him still, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Be still, Beloved. It is almost finished.”

“Fuck you.”  A hand cups his chin and his eyes lose focus as Ra’s leans closer just to watch. Bastard. “What, what _izzit_?”

“Just a tool to dull your brilliant mind for a moment, my love, to make your body lax so you don’t interfere.” To the ninja, he waves a hand to dismiss them from the library. “I’ve had some time to delicately set-up this situation, and I would prefer that these officials meet _without_ a mediator…”

“Leave these countries alone.” Without an anchor, Tim sways forward, lurching to the side until Ra’s grips him by the shoulders.

“No, their unrest is necessary for my work. I have been fanning their animosity for months and cannot allow you to unravel my effort so easily.”

“ _Fuck you.”_

_“_ Perhaps if you behave.” He half leads, half drags the detective to a divan. Arranging him to lay down, fully sprawled across the heavy expensive fabric. Ra’s is sure they will not be disturbed, the governor’s party will continue and those ambassadors from territories of his realm will circle and bait each other as wild dogs. Without one to soothe their hackles, such as Timothy, the governor’s hope for peace will remain a dream, unrealized, _just as planned_.

“I’m seeing spots on the ceiling, and I’m going to throw up.” Beloved slurs, trying to glare up at him. “Come closer so I throw up on you.”

Ra’s hums before absentmindedly sitting on the floor next to the divan. His fingers begin to run through Tim’s hair. Tim loves and hates it. “That is a concern, once I return to the keep, I shall speak to my chemist about the drug’s side effects, my dear.”

“Or, _just a thought,_ you could stop drugging me.”

“I think not.” Ra’s smiles fondly at Tim, he wonders how romantic a picture they must paint. Like Princess Aurora awaking from her deep slumber, but where is this beauty’s, his Timothy’s, sweet kiss? That shall not do.

He reaches for Timothy’s hand, the knuckles a lovely place to start. He kisses each one gently, mindful of bruises there before peppering a path on his fingers, his palm, his wrist.

Tim gasps.

Ah, he must lave more attention here. Ra’s undoes the cuff link of Tim’s suit impatiently, letting the small metal piece hit the floor with a clink. His beloved does look very dashing in that formal wear, but Ra’s misses pale skin to taste and explore. He makes do with Beloved’s forearm, pushing back the sleeve to trace fragile blue veins with tongue and teeth.

“Stop that, I’m mad at you.” But there’s a definite hitch in that voice, and Ra’s possesses not a small skill in _persuasion_.

“Then allow me to make it up to you. Let me apologize in the way we enjoy best.” He finishes a mark on Tim’s pulse, and yet still he hungers. Ra’s tilts Timothy’s face to the side so he can press kisses across forehead and cheeks. “You may rest if you desire.”

“Not tired, I don’t want to sleep, I _want_ to beat you up.” He sullenly says, but he closes his eyes so that touch can move over on his eyelids, linger there.

“That must wait for another time, Beloved.” He gives attention around that soft mouth, outlining it with pecks on the chin, jaw and the corner of his lips. Somehow Tim knows this is the only ‘sorry’ Ra’s will offer. Eventually, he sighs in exasperation and just tilts his face so the kisses land where he wants.

Ra’s sinks deep into that mouth.

Sucking on lips and tongue, he kisses Timothy until their lungs scream for air. It’s slow and thorough for why should they rush? Then he repeats the progress over again, turning his head for better angles because it’s not enough, will never be enough.

There is a creak of a door and both tense, reluctantly breaking apart with a wet sound. Ra’s covers his prize with his upper body, bracing his arms beside Timothy’s head to possess and protect. How _dare_ anyone intrude upon them.  He twists his head to the one who could past his men and his face twists into an ugly snarl.

_“Batman.”_ Beloved shifts beneath him, trying to muster enough energy to face the door. It will be highly difficult to get Timothy back to the pliant state of just moments before. _How vexing beyond grief_. “Must you prove yourself highly inconvenient at every turn?”

_“Get your hands off my son.”_

And Ra’s knows the night is lost and _hates_.

“Don’t worry Ra’s.” His lover cheekily ends with a quip. “Like you said, it’ll have to wait for _another time.”_

Yes, and next time Ra’s vows to transport the detective away. Far away. Back in the keep so he can enjoy, ravish, take, and give at his leisure.

_Next time._

* * *

_Bang._

Tim has to admit, Jason might be on to something. There’s something terribly satisfying in pulling the trigger and watching your enemy drop to the cold ground.

“I think I could get used to this.”

“I know, right? Now gimme.” Jason says. He reaches for the gun hanging from Tim’s fingers. Tim just jerks his arm out of his reach, like a game of keep-away, pressing the gun tight to his side, his eyes glued to the man in front of them in green and gold.

He likes the way Ra’s whole face slides into this numbed shock, how his hands wildly fly to his chest where Tim shot him. He shakes out the strain in his hand, the recoil hurt his wrist a bit. He’s only shot a gun like what? Once? Twice? It’s still worth it to see Ra’s fall to his knees on the hard roof and just like on the silver screens he slowly collapses to the side, mouthing only one word…his name, ‘ _Beloved_.’

Seriously if Ra’s is going to be this _dramatic_ _when tranquilized_ then Tim swears he’s going have to shoot him up more often.

“Gimme my gun back, Replacement!” Jason growls with an aborted lunge, but Tim evades with a step to the side. He releases the clip and takes a dart, no three darts just in case, and finally tosses the gun back to Red Hood.

“Fine here, no need to fog up your helmet.”

_“Then don’t take my toys.”_

“Why Hood, Agent A is going to be so disappointed, didn’t he teach you to share?” There’s an angry huff from the vigilante, but Tim knows he’s forgiven. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Without rush, he unclips his cape from the base of his throat and holds it out in front of him contemplating for a moment. Then he wanders to and fro as if looking for the perfect spot on the roof. When satisfied, he flicks both of his wrists to spreads the cape like a goddamn picnic blanket.

Behind him, Nightwing shifts his weight uncomfortably at the scene. “Babybird…what are you doing?”

Tim answers with his actions, approaching the body on the roof with a leisurely stroll. He shoves his hands under Ra’s underarms and lifts the assassin, his feet dragging on the metal roof to plop down on the fabric. When Tim’s all nicely situated, Ra’s head and shoulders resting on top of his folded legs, _he smiles._

“Tim, don’t take this the wrong way but I can’t even begin with how creepy this is. Please don’t be creepy with your creepy evil boyfriend.” Dick begs.

Red Robin just waves a hand at him to go away. “I’m a Bat and unhealthy, obsessive relationships are a family trademark. In fact, I think that’s vindication _why_ I can be as creepy as I want, thanks. I’ve earned it. Now you and Hood better get going.”

“Excuse me, you can’t just _sit_ there while we–”

Tim interrupts, “Look N, I’m doing _my part._ I’m keeping the main baddie out of commission until his plan is completely foiled and smashed to itty, bitty pieces.” He reasons with Dick like it’s perfectly normal to adjust Ra’s al Ghul’s neck in his lap so he’s more comfortable. Like it isn’t weird for Tim, _at all,_ to watch his enemy’s unconscious face with this kind of hungry, possessive stare. “If we just zip-tied him and left, it would be _milliseconds_ before one of his men, that are definitely out there by the way, to release their master. He would get away. But while I’m here, I can traq Ra’s anytime he wakes and wreck any ninja that try anything. It’s a win-win situation. Really I’m doing you a favor here.”

Dick gapes, his mouth flapping for words on how _wrong_ that statement is, but Jason isn’t having it. He groans, his voice scratching through the synthesizer. “We don’t have time for this. Leave ‘em, Big Wing. Now get your ass in gear and help me.”

“But–”

“But nothing, let’s go.” Jason punches Dick in the shoulder. But it takes two more hits to get the man moving. Once they’re perched on the edge of the roof Jason calls behind him, “Don’t have too much fun ya masochistic fuck.”

“Just try and stop me,” Tim replies absentmindedly, “And having a masochistic streak a mile wide is like a hero _requirement_ , asshole.”

There’s a bang of a grappling gun and finally, they’re out of sight. Tim takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, the sound of the cars rushing below fills his ears. The city is too sluggish in the garish day, but now? It comes alive. Gotham’s heart pulses with light, constellations held in patterns on skyscrapers faraway and so faintly, if Tim concentrates, there’s music coming out of someone’s nearby window. When his eyelids flutter open again, he murmurs quietly to the warm weight in his arms, “It’s a shame you never spend the night here. If you just gave it time, if you fell in love with Gotham, would you try to destroy it as much?”

Because Gotham does possess its own beauty. Sculptures of twisted metal and stone rest in random nooks on street corners. Between the mix between Gothic and modern architecture, there were places where graffiti took the time to be art. And how could anyone not appreciate the old gargoyles that cap buildings? They have protected the city much longer than the Bat. Tim loves his city. _It’s a complete hellhole_ , but there’s a reason why not many people _leave_.

The people have their own rugged charm too. To never give in, even when their teeth are kicked in. They just pick themselves up and keep going.   

Carefully with a fingertip, he traces over Ra’s nose and eyebrows. Lingers at the crow’s feet in the corner of those shut eyes. “Is this why you always watch me sleep?” Tim could almost see the appeal. To see the other lover so unguarded? Their face completely lax, open and Tim tilts Ra’s head back so his fingers can move along that jaw to the tender space behind his ears.

_A rustle to his left._

Tim snaps his hand out, a batarang sinking an inch in front of a crouched figure in black. Nonchalantly, Tim snaps the openings of his belt. Which pellet to use? Explosive? Paralyzing?

Or should he continue throwing more sharp objects until they got the _point_?

“It is our mission to help the master. His work must be done, his plan to be fulfilled.” A shadow murmurs.

“Well, what do you know? It’s _my mission_ to keep him down, leave us.” Ninjas. You had to show a firm, condescending hand because that’s what they’re used to.

Tim raises one of Ra’s arms closer to his face and plays with his hand. He ignores when one ninja becomes four, instead he compares the sizes of their palms and wonders if it’s too late to pray for a growth spurt.

“Master will not be pleased.” One hisses. There’s light glinting off a dagger and _boom_ decision made, exploding pellets it is.

“Master doesn’t have a choice.” And Tim yanks at the hidden wire he lay across the roof before setting his cape down. The ninja jerk to the side. The wire catches the back of heels, and each warrior goes down. It gives Tim a second. Nice. Before they can right themselves he flicks a pellet at each one of them.

Explosions never get old.

Tim bends protectively over the Demon Head. When the smoke clears, Tim sees that he caught more than four in the blast with unconscious forms sprawled here and there. Score.

In the night air, once again he calls, “I’ll say it one more time for you, slowly. Get lost. You know it’s better for you, since your nonexistent health insurance _sucks_.”

Maybe they’ll get it and to knock it off, but if not well...Tim’s belt is full of other goodies.

The head in his lap shifts minutely, and Tim places one hand on that chest ready to pin it down, the other starts preparing a dart.

“Beloved?” Ra’s croaks, then he coughs to clear his throat and growls, “Dearest, why can I not move?”

“Probably because the tranquilizer hasn’t worn off yet.”

Ra’s brow furrows, _and_ _because he can,_ Tim pokes at it with a forefinger, flattening it in absolute childish glee. “Tranquilizers should not work on me, I have spent years developing an immunity to their like.”

“Even the ones designed for tigers, lions, and bears _oh my?”_

“Ah. I see.” He looks up at Tim’s face owlishly. “I would not mind this view if you were uncovered. I miss the color of your eyes.”

Tim leans down to peck him squarely on the mouth, “I’m not uncowling myself on a random roof and risk my identity for you.”

Ra’s would deny that a pout graces his features, but that’s what it is. A pout. Gosh, Tim can see where Damian’s gets most of his facial expressions now. “Then if I am to remain your prisoner, I must demand another kiss from your lips.”

“You are such a greedy bastard,” Tim says but obeys. He keeps it light, gentle and he can feel Ra’s straining against him, trying to deepen the kiss. The muscles resting on Tim’s thighs twitch trying to lift up and chase his mouth but Tim moves out of reach. He likes that he can control the pace, the rush of power that floods him is so nice. He sighs with their faces barely millimeters apart and watches Ra’s pupils darken at the tease.

“If you wanted me helpless beneath you, there’s no need to resort to chemical trickery. I would gladly comply to such a pleasant request.”

Yet out of the corner of Tim’s eye, he can see Ra’s fingers twitch. “Hey Ra’s?” He asks sweetly, their lips brushing lightly in contact with the question.

“Yes, my sweet Timothy?”

“Please shut up.” And Tim stabs him with another dart.

Ra’s body finches hard, and Tim pets his hair as he goes slack again. That’s better. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth and frowns at the other two remaining darts. Then he thinks of knock gas, of various chokes, nerve strikes…

Could do this all night?

The answer is _yes_.

* * *

The Collector finds Earth a perfect breeding ground for specimens.

He was surprised when one of his underlings mentioned the wayward planet. Yet with careful, thorough observation, he is pleased to discover that there are choice groups of intelligent mammals that would do well in his studies on vitality. They stand out in colorful apparel to either defend or fight for resources and the Collector and his team wait.

They wait for the highest concentration of such beings, a conflict one scientist explains, before they act.

Before they gas the planet, only a mere half-mile radius of the fight with a powerful sedative.

Coolly they had watched the target group cough and collapse to their hands and knees. A few of specimens reach into pockets and pouches in their clothing, but the gas only needs ten seconds to be effective.

In eleven, the field is littered with unconscious bodies.

Wonderful.

His men are pleased no other precautions were necessary. It would not do if their sample of the species was harmed during extraction. Especially if it would weaken their capabilities to perform and survive future tests. The Collector would be...strongly peeved if they were unable to gather the most accurate data.

Knowledge is power after all.

For now, the gaunt leader, nine feet tall with spiny pale limbs paces the block in impatient interest. His crew trailing happily behind him as they visit each cell. The sample group has amazing potential. Each new test subject so diverse in form and function, at least from what they could tell from minutes of the fight’s footage, there are so many skills and abilities to catalog.

To test.

To dissect.

The Collector can imagine a fine decade or _two_ of comprehensive analysis and his mouth starts to water with the thrill of it.

Their thin spider-like legs clink on the floor, passing each of the square-like cells, most contain only one male or female within it’s four clear gluey walls. Of course, none will wake until stimulated, until a counter chemical is pumped into their holding unit, until a mild shock is applied.  

The Collect stops. Peers into one gummy unit a little more closely.  

“How _intriguing_ , were not these two specimens on opposing sides?” The Collector asks.

“Yes, my Lord.”

In fact, the Collector recalls a very clear shot on the holoscreens of one performing a stunning kick to the other. Sending their larger opponent sliding several impressive feet.

“Then how could they end up so entangled together?”

The bigger male has a hand cupping the base of the other’s head, bracing them in the crook of their neck. Their other appendage has a death grip on the back of the smaller male’s red uniform. Even highly sedated the larger male bares his teeth in repose.

“I concur, it is truly odd. It appears the larger male was making an attempt to guard and protect the other. Plus if you notice here, the smaller one, the earth hero I believe, has also taken action to not be removed from its counterpart.”

The Collector looks to where his underling points. There is scant space between the two specimens for somehow a large piece of green fabric, a cape? Is wrapped tightly around their waists. The younger specimen has a tight fist in the cloth as if to secure its position.

“Humans are such wonderful, interesting creatures,” The scientist at last proclaims. “We shall have to test them against the others to see if this is an example of pack bonds forming under the stress of an unknown environment or how their personal dynamic changes the nature of our assessments.”

His companion chatters his mandibles in earnest. “Indeed my Lord, shall I tell the others to prepare the testing chambers?”

“Please do so immediately, I would like to analyze results as quickly as necessary.” Truly, the Collector wishes he had more eyes than five. Longingly his gaze trails from the pair and with his crew he proceeds to pass over the rest of their sample group. Some of his followers walk on the walls and ceilings for better vantage points, others spin and spit more collagen in the honeycomb-like chambers of those they witnessed with superior strength. It would not do to let them escape.

It is until their shadow is far from the cell that Tim takes a deep breath through his nose.

“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep, Ra’s?”

The arm around his shoulders squeezes. “Why my dear sweet Timothy, I could very much ask the same question of you.” Ra’s ducks to mumble into his neck, then like an afterthought presses a kiss in the hollow of his throat.

_Touché_

“Are they gone? You’re the one facing the door.”

“You perhaps mean the observation window created to observe and study us?”

“ _Which for us is going to be a door._ Now answer the question.” Silently he starts to unwrap the cape from around them, keeping his motions slow and almost undetectable.

A wet suck to his pulse, “Yes, Beloved, they are gone.”

“Good.” With the fabric uncoiled and free, Tim moves to rise but the hands around his body keep him tucked into Ra’s side. Ra’s isn’t done with the mark on his throat. Truly displeased to be moved when his work is incomplete.

“Ra’s.” His voice is exasperated.

In response, the demon head rolls on top of him.

“Ra’s!” Tim pushes at Ra’s chest, wheezing as the older man settles his weight on top of him. Pinning him, trapping him. “This is not the time or place!”   

“It is said that time is an illusion, my dear pet. So in truth, there is always time for this...and you.” Ra’s purrs. Then he gives a sharp bite to that pulse. It causes Beloved to gasp and tug his hair just how tight he demon prefers. “Come now Detective, my timing is quite superb. Why if I had not taken certain measures, both of us would have been helplessly unconscious.”

_“Furiously making out with me so I can’t breathe doesn’t count, you psycho.”_ He guesses he should count his blessings. The gas had been so thick when it flooded the battlefield that when Ra’s had yanked Tim to crash into his chest, the moment was just privy to them. Or how no one saw the way Ra’s literally swooped down _like a bird of prey_ to suck all the air from his lungs in the weirdest version of CPR Tim’s ever experienced.

Ra’s finally pulls enough away to examine his handiwork. Purple and red already marring Timothy’s lovely pale skin. He also glances at his lover’s petulant face, unable to resist running his thumb over those swollen lips. Perfect. His eyes drink in Timothy’s bare face hungrily. Their alien foes must have removed his headgear sometime during their extraction.

But the sight has a flaw.

With the back of his knuckles, he carefully brushes a forming bruise on a pale cheekbone. He will not apologize. To do so would be highly insulting to their convictions, their pride and to their skills. A long hiss escapes him. Especially when his own left rib aches from the blow his lover dealt himself.

Still, these are not the sort of marks that should grace the body of his own.

The caress is soft, traces Tim’s jaw and Tim knows it would only take a moment, just a second to turn his head and kiss those fingers, _but he meant it._ This is not the time.

“Ra’s. You heard them just as well as I did, they’re immediately preparing the ‘testing chambers.’ Do you really want to stay for that? I don’t. Nope. I lost any interest in becoming an alien pincushion in my teens, thanks.”

“Must you always be so insufferably right?” Ra’s groans and presses their foreheads together, “Yet I confess it is far better to ravish you in a place that is safe.”

“Or in one you control?” Tim adds dryly.

“That as well.”

“Now come on and help me crack open the other cells. I can get the access code, hacking will be easy—“

_“No.”_ Ra’s interrupts, “I think I shall not.”

_“What?”_

“You must understand, my pet, why should I play savior to my foes and rivals when without them, the Earth in her glory is _mine_.”

“Because we’re up against an alien race that has a lot of hands and you only have two?”

There is a long pause.

Then Tim sighs. “If you help me, the next time I’m at the keep I’ll wear the...thing you got me.”

Ra’s entire body stills with interest. He stops pinning Tim down to rise and approach the door. “The lingerie? At least the green pair?”

“Are you implying that you bought _more_ than one pair?”

“But of course. There are beyond several colorful shades that are possible with your complexion as well as styles to match your physique. If I do not possess them all, how else can I decide which suits you best?”

Tim’s eyes flash in anger. Then through gritted teeth, he breathes in and out. Slowly. “Okay. Okay, _first_ you’re going to help me free everyone on this entire ship. _Second_ , we shut this space motherfucking laboratory down. And last and third I’m going to kick you in the teeth.”

“No, the last step on this itinerary is where you will model your new lingerie for my pleasure, _no for our pleasure_ as you so promised.”

“...I changed my mind. Cancel that promise, cancel that motion a thousand times. It was a bad idea, a slip of the tongue.”

“Ah, ah but your tongue is one of my favorite body parts. I crave it. In addition, it’s far too late to change your incentives now, my love. Especially with such an enticement I can agree to. Now come, there are many prisoners to free and the hour grows old.”

“I regret everything I say to you.”

“And yet with time my presence grows on you.”

“Yeah...just like cancer.”

In the end, Tim learns two new things. One, this new alien species can catch on fire very, very easily. And two?

He doesn’t like the green pair much.

But the red pair... _isn’t_ _so bad._

Sue him.

It’s his favorite color.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Alright...I admit there is actually a fourth scene...a smut scene. To those who are interested you can find the same fic on my tumblr here: http://satire-please.tumblr.com/post/177186613793/its-like-tag-only-with-drugs  
> It's the second part of the fic because sex pollen is always a classic and both fight for domination in their own right.


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